Swan Song
by samonthetv
Summary: A Hogwarts-era Draco and Ginny story.
1. Chapter 1

**Swan Song**

"…_a final gesture, effort or performance given just before death or retirement. The phrase refers to an ancient belief that the Mute Swan is completely silent during its lifetime until the moment just before death, when it sings one beautiful song." _

Chapter One

One thing was absolutely certain: Draco Malfoy _hated_ Harry Potter. What was uncertain, however, was if the Slytherin had the courage—or the stomach—to murder him.

It all began at the beginning of the summer holiday. Draco had just returned home from his sixth year at Hogwarts and was prepared to be doted upon by his mother and ignored by his father for much of the time. Lucius had surprised him, however, by meeting his son in the foyer of their manor with an impatient air about him. _"Draco,"_ he had drawled, narrowing his eyes slightly. _"Do not disappoint me tonight. You shall be attending the Meeting with me, although it is left to be seen if you shall attend any thereafter." _ Not having to ask what meeting his father was talking about, and completely unprepared for the announcement, Draco simply shook his head silently and retreated to his room.

Before that night the Slytherin had only met Voldemort once, when he was fourteen. Amidst the chaos of Cedric Diggory's death and Harry Potter's chilling announcement that Tom had risen again, Lucius managed to sneak Draco out of the grounds of Hogwarts to introduce him to their Master. It was perhaps the most traumatic night of Draco's life; he had heard of Voldemort's power from the moment he could understand such things, but had only been exposed to his father's brand of evil. The Dark Lord was on an entirely different plane of existence and Draco feared him immensely—an extremely hard admission to make, but nevertheless one which had to be acknowledged. To put it simply, Draco was left with nothing but confusion and coldness gripping his mind like a vice and, unsure of what to make of his life, remained silent for much of the time.

Not quite aware as to what would be expected for his second meeting, Draco had remained hidden away for the remainder of the day until he was called upon by his father. _"Speak only when spoken to," _Lucius had hissed before their departure. _"And never look directly at Him. He also prefers that when He stands before you, you kneel. Never address him as 'Voldemort' or 'Dark Lord,' but simply 'Lord' or 'Master.' Do you understand, boy?"_

"_Yes," _Draco had replied, although he really didn't understand at all.

The field was dark when father and son arrived, and they were the first. Before long, however, more men clothed in black robes with masks hiding their faces began to apparate with a faint 'pop.' Draco had been given his own mask and robes, although they were only temporary because he was technically not allowed to wear them until branded with the Dark Mark. Voldemort had made a concession simply because Lucius made it clear that this night was to be the beginning of his son's trial.

It was obvious when the Dark Lord arrived in the midst of the Death Eaters for Nagini the Snake was wrapped loosely about his shoulders and Peter Pettigrew, who never left his Master's side, hovered about awkwardly with the ghost of his former hand glowing eerily in the moonlight.

"_My dear followers," _Voldemort hissed, his voice coming out in barely but a whisper. _"I have a surprise for you tonight. It seems that a _witch_," _he spat out the word as if it were poison, _"has been offering up potions to cure the ailments of her Muggle neighbors. It is an abomination," _he said calmly, and with a flick of his wand, a petrified woman suddenly appeared, hovering in the middle of the circle of Death Eaters. She was clearly terrified and although her limbs were stuck resolutely to her body, her eyes were rolling back and forth with madness.

"_Crucio," _Voldemort said evenly.

She couldn't scream out loud, but it was clear that in her mind she was doing nothing else. Eventually Voldemort lifted the curse and, with a horrifying smile playing on his face, sought out the eyes of Draco Malfoy.

"_Ah,"_ he slithered. _"Your father wishes ever so much that tonight begins your trial… let's just see how dedicated the Malfoys are to the cause, shall we? Draco," _Voldemort's hate-red eyes narrowed dangerously. _"Kill her."_

And Draco had.

Afterwards, when the woman's body was disposed of, the Dark Lord once more turned his attention on Draco. Seemingly satisfied with something, he began speaking harshly to the Slytherin about Harry Potter. _"He is becoming too much of a nuisance and I cannot be bothered by him anymore. That is where you come in." _

Complying with his father's wishes, Draco was kneeling before his Master, eyes fixed stoically on the ground. He listened with growing terror as the Dark Lord laid out a plan—a plan for Draco to murder his greatest enemy under the very nose of Albus Dumbledore.

"_Failure is not an option," _he finally spat. _"You_ will_ do this, or you will die."_

When the meeting was concluded and Draco and Lucius had apparated safely back to Malfoy Manor, Lucius invited his son into the library. _"Sit,"_ he had commanded, while pouring two glasses of brandy.

Draco gulped his greedily after it was handed to him, while Lucius watched with calculating eyes. He then said something that Draco would never forget.

_"I'm proud of you for the way in which you handled the disposal of that magical taint. Now go—get out of my sight."_

It was the first and only time that Lucius was ever to tell Draco he was proud.

brxXxXxbr

Frowning in concentration, Harry Potter hesitated and then rapt his knuckles three times against the worn door.

"Just a minute!" came a muffled cry and then, "Ron if that's you I swear on Merlin's Beard that—oh!"

Ginny, the youngest Weasley opened her bedroom door with a look of surprise on her face. "Sorry Harry," she said grinning and beckoned him inside. "I thought you were that git Ron coming to give me more excuses as to why he hasn't paid me back yet. Anyway, what's up?"

Harry grinned back at the redhead and then began to fidget, his face reddening noticeably. Ginny frowned a bit and then cleared her throat uncomfortably.

"Was there something you needed?" she asked, watching the older boy.

"Er… yeah… just—your mum said you had better start packing." Giving her a quick wave, Harry strode quickly out of the redhead's bedroom, the back of his neck tinged pink.

_Well that was weird,_ Ginny reflected as she closed her bedroom door after her long-time friend disappeared down the hallway. _I'll have to corner Hermione later and ask what that was all about._ Biting her bottom lip, Ginny turned back to her writing desk where she had been busy trying to finish up an essay for Potions.

"I'll never get this done now," she groaned miserably. Sighing, she began to gather all of her school supplies together as her mum requested. Intent on her work, she wondered idly again what Harry had wanted.

brxXxbr

"Stupid, stupid, _stupid_," Harry muttered to himself as he walked down the rickety stairs and into the Weasley living room. It was empty save for his two best friends, Ron and Hermione, who both looked up from their conversation with a hopeful look on each of their faces.

"Well?" Hermione prompted eagerly. "How'd it go?"

"You chickened out, didn't you mate?" Ron said with a hint of laughter in his voice. "Serves you right, that's my sister you git!"

Grinning sheepishly, Harry pushed his hair out of his eyes and sat down on the floor next to Ron. "I got all tongue-tied," he said. "She was just standing there with those big, brown eyes looking at me and—"

"Eugh!" Ron blanched. "Older brother, remember?"

Laughing, Hermione shushed Ron and turned to Harry. "Really, there's no reason to be afraid. Now go up and _ask_ her already or… I won't help you with your homework at all. Not even that Transfiguration essay due in two days which I _know_ you haven't started."

"Ah, sucks for you mate," Ron grinned.

"I won't help _you_ either," Hermione said pointedly.

Going pale, Ron sprang up from his spot on the floor and pulled Harry with him. "Go," he urged, and pushed his best friend through the doorway. "Get up there, and don't come down until you've snogged my sister senseless. Now _there's _something I never thought I'd say," the redhead muttered as he watched Harry trudge back up the stairs.

Just as Ginny had put all of her schoolbooks into her trunk, another knock sounded at the door. Rolling her eyes she crossed her room and opened it—completely nonplussed to see Harry Potter standing before her. Again.

"Harry," she said, the ghost of a smile playing on her lips. "Did mum send you with more instructions?"

"Erm… well no not really," the boy was squirming visibly and Ginny was thoroughly enjoying how uncomfortable he was.

"I lied before," he said in a rush. "I mean—your mum never sent me up here in the first place… actually, well—"

"Oh Harry, just spit it out!" the redhead was beginning to get impatient—she _did_ have a Potion's essay to finish, after all. But what he did next surprised them both: one moment Harry was standing before her looking awkward and uncomfortable and the next, his lips were on hers.

And all too soon it was over—Ginny's small had was pushing firmly against Harry's chest and Harry was looking dazed and then horrified. "Oh, Ginny I'm so sorry!" he began worriedly. "This wasn't how the conversation was supposed to go and I honestly didn't mean—"

"Harry," Ginny put her finger to his mouth and smiled. "What took you so long?"

The raven-haired boy looked confused, then shocked, and eventually he smiled. "Dunno," he said sheepishly. "Guess it's true what they say, though—it's always hardest to see what's right in front of your face."

"Mmm," Ginny said, and then her lips found his.

After a while, footsteps were heard coming up the stairs and toward Ginny's room. She and Harry were both sitting on her floor, fingers entwined, talking lightly about their return trip to Hogwarts in two days' time. A throat cleared and Ginny looked up, her sparkling eyes noting the grin slowly creeping onto Ron's face as he stood in her doorway watching her and Harry.

Shooting Harry an 'I-told-you-so' sort of look, he said, "well I see you two have finally come to your senses then, eh?"

Harry rolled his eyes and stood up, tugging Ginny with him. "C'mon then, I 'spect Hermione will want to know all about this," he said grinning.

"And," Ron looked smug, "she'll be thrilled to hear she has to help us with our homework after all."

Ginny ran her fingers through her thick, red hair and tried to quell the butterflies that were fluttering in her stomach. "I'll catch up with the two of you," she said smiling. "I ought to finish packing."

With a final wave, Harry followed Ron out of Ginny's bedroom, closing her door behind him. With both of them gone, Ginny stuck her arms out and began spinning wildly, her hair flying out behind her. She could barely contain her excitement that a wish she had held onto since she was eleven years old was _finally_ coming true.

brxXxbr

Draco Malfoy frowned deeply and rested his forehead against the cool glass of his bedroom window. He knew that his father was expecting some sort of game plan but Draco had _no_ idea where to start. It wasn't as if he could simply walk up to Potter, casually say _Avada Kedavra_ and be done with the whole mess—he'd be caught for sure and then sentenced to a life imprisonment in Azkaban. Shuddering, Draco knew that wouldn't do. He needed something else—something that his father and the Dark Lord would both approve of which could stave off the murdering bit for a couple of months. Because if Draco was honest with himself, he wasn't sure he could actually do it.

This turned his thoughts back to the witch _(her name what was her name) _that he had murdered and felt suddenly weak in the knees. He had only done it to preserve his life and felt only too well that the nightmares which accompanied him every night were deserved.

And then—suddenly—another thought hit him. Information.

_I could spy on Potter; see what he actually knows about this whole business and what his plans are. Feed the information to father, who in turn will tell the Dark Lord and maybe there will be no need for murder at all. Brilliant. But how?_

A knock at his door and then, "Draco, your father would like a moment, please."

Turning from the window was an effort, but Draco managed. He crossed his room and then opened the door to see his mother standing there with her usual wineglass in hand. "Yes mother," Draco intoned. "Library?"

Nodding, Narcissa Malfoy turned and walked slowly and deliberately toward her sitting room, trying desperately not to show how much the wine was affecting her. Draco watched after his mother a moment, feeling a swell of pity in his chest that he abruptly pushed away. In facing his father, one did _not _have any feelings to show.

When Draco reached the library doors, he breathed in deeply and then pushed them open. Lucius was sitting behind a mahogany desk looking bored and unconcerned. His steely eyes barely registered that his son had entered the room; although Draco was approaching the desk slowly, Lucius continued to ignore him in favor of examining his cup of brandy instead.

Finally, after nearly a minute of making Draco wait in silence, Lucius turned to him and said, "sit."

Draco did as he was told, sitting stiffly with his back hardly touching the chair. "You wanted to see me sir?"

"Yes. If you are caught this term, do not expect any help from me. The Dark Lord has made it perfectly clear that this is to be your test—if you succeed, you will be the youngest Death Eater ever to be accepted into the ranks—a high honor for the Malfoy family. However," Lucius's face clouded darkly, "if you fail… I will kill you myself. Is that understood?"

Draco was silent for a moment and then, "yes sir."

"Now, have you any idea of what you're going to do?"

"I've thought about it all summer, father, and have come to the conclusion that the actual… act… must wait until very near the end of the year. If it is any sooner I will more than likely be caught and I cannot let that happen." Draco watched his father's impassive face as he spoke, hoping for some sort of reaction. He was disappointed, but continued anyway.

"Until then, I have decided to play spy." Lucius raised an eyebrow to which Draco was grateful. It was something, at least.

"What I mean is that since nothing can be done for quite some time, I do not want to be seen as idle; rather, I will watch and listen and report to you anything of consequence that Potter does. Is this acceptable?"

After a moment, Lucius nodded. "Yes, I believe the Dark Lord will be satisfied with this. Remember, Draco," Lucius said coldly. "If you fail, I will not hesitate."

Draco nodded and understood that he was dismissed.

"Just one more thing," Lucius said to his son's retreating back. Draco paused, listening. "I will contact you, do you understand? Do not send me letters containing this information—we will meet once a month by floo."

"Yes sir. I will see you then."

brxXxbr

Platform 9 ¾ was teeming with excited Hogwarts' students, screeching owls and mothers who couldn't bear to let their children go. There were shouts of recognition, excitement, exclamations of surprise and the steady, vibrating thrum of the train idling by and waiting for its passengers to board. The Weasley's were only just making it—as usual—and Ginny was being dragged along by her mum listening to the typical beginning of the year speech.

"—forget that if you need anything to write. Last year I didn't receive _nearly_ enough letters from either you _or_ Ron so I expect them regularly. Ginevra, are you listening to me?"

Molly Weasley had her daughter by the hand (an irritation for Ginny, but it couldn't be helped—there was no denying her mum what she wanted) and was impatiently waiting for a reply.

"Oh, huh? Sorry mum, I was just running through a mental checklist is all! And yes I will make sure that Ron writes frequently. Promise."

The redhead was just as tall as the woman before her, so she was able to look her mother directly in the eyes. "Love you," she said softly and Mrs. Weasley drew her only daughter into a crushing hug.

With one last affectionate pat, Ginny waved goodbye and went off in search of her brother, Hermione and Harry. Her stomach gave a little trill of excitement as she thought of the green-eyed boy happily. He was her _boyfriend_—and with a grin, the redhead boarded the all too familiar train, head in the clouds.

"Where's Hermione?" Ginny asked after seating herself next to _(her boyfriend) _Harry. She had only searched a few minutes before finding them at the very end of the train.

"Head compartment," Ron answered with a mouth full of Chocolate Frog. "Meeting with the Head Boy, I guess," he shrugged noncommittally.

"Wonder who it is," Harry mused, putting his arm gently around Ginny. "Ravenclaw, probably."

"Mmm," Ginny hummed in agreement. "Not surprised about Hermione though, remember when she received her badge? I thought You-Know-Who had apparated into the backyard, or something."

Harry and Ron both laughed – Hermione's shriek had been both loud and terrifying and had every Weasley in the vicinity running to the kitchen.

After about fifteen minutes of companionable silence, Hermione startled the passengers of the train car as she slammed open the compartment door, her bushy hair looking more disheveled than usual. Before any of them could say a word, she held up her hand for silence.

"Malfoy," she ground out. "I'm to be sharing quarters with _Malfoy._"


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Ron was still beside himself with rage as the Hogwarts Express slowed to a stop at Hogsmeade station.

"Bloody _Malfoy,_" he muttered again for what was most likely the hundredth time. "How in Merlin's name could Dumbledore make _him _Head Boy?"

"Give it a rest, Ron," Ginny said tiredly and waved one hand at him half-heartedly as the four of them got off of the train. "Hermione's a big girl, I'm pretty sure she'll be able to handle ferret face."

"Ginny's right, you know," Harry agreed, and slipped his hand into hers. He was rewarded with a dazzling smile from the small girl. Ron gave a disgruntled snort, and followed his two best friends and sister toward the waiting carriages and their invisible mounts.

Hidden in the shadows of the train, Draco Malfoy watched the four Gryffindors drift off toward the transportation that would take them to Hogwarts School. He only caught a small snatch of their conversation _(ferret face)_ but was much more interested in the intertwined hands of the littlest Weasley and Boy-Who-Lived.

_Interesting,_ he thought to himself. _Potter may have a weakness after all. _

He was jolted out of his musings suddenly when he heard his name being called. Turning to look, Draco caught the mischievous eyes of a black haired boy wearing Slytherin robes that were slightly askew. Rolling his eyes, Draco waited until the boy stood before him then said, "Zabini," with a slight nod of his head.

"Hey Malfoy," Blaise Zabini gasped while attempting to fix his tie.

He was slightly shorter than Draco and not as lanky, with a deep olive complexion and dancing eyes. An anomaly amongst the Slytherin house, Blaise usually had a smile on his face and a joke to tell. He was fiercely loyal, however he was placed into Slytherin for a reason; cunning and manipulative, what Blaise wanted, he usually got. Which was why he was friends with Draco Malfoy—no matter how many times he was pushed away, Blaise managed to push right back until the blonde had simply given up.

"You look like you were thoroughly snogged," Draco commented as the two boys clambered into a carriage together. Blaise only grinned in response which prompted Draco to ask, "Who was it this time? Mandy Brocklehurst corner you again?"

"Oh Draco, that was only one time—and she was actually quite a good kisser if you ask me," Blaise replied lightly. "Anyway, how was your summer hols?"

One of Blaise's talents was the way in which he could steer a conversation into a completely different direction when it proceeded down an unfavorable road; Draco scowled and filed that bit of information away to deal with at a later date.

"I'd really rather not talk about it," he muttered darkly and turned abruptly to face the window.

There was silence for a moment and then, "Draco? You can tell me, you know," Blaise said solemnly.

On the outside, Draco looked the picture of perfect calm. His face was schooled carefully into a mask of bored indifference and his eyes were as hard as ice—but on the inside, panic threatened to bubble over. He wanted to tell Blaise everything and his stomach was churning madly; it took every bit of willpower that Lucius had drilled into him since childhood to push until his feelings were completely gone. He pushed and pushed and eventually there was nothing left but a hollow emptiness eating slowly away at his cold, cold heart.

* * *

><p>"Finally, we're home," Harry sighed happily as he, Ron, Hermione and Ginny made their way into the Great Hall for the Welcome Feast.<p>

Ginny smiled sadly at Harry's admission; it always pained her heart that he should find solace in such a temporary place—that he had never known what it was like to be loved so completely at every moment of every day by a family that never left your side.

The Great Hall was filled with warmth, laughter and chaos as always on the first day back at Hogwarts. Most students were already seated as the four Gryffindors made their way over to their house table and Ginny smiled at a few of her Ravenclaw friends as she passed them by. As soon as they sat down, the floating candles flickered announcing the arrival of the first years, who were led into the hall by a rather grim-looking Professor McGonagall. Ginny glanced around, not too interested with the sorting—no one she knew was standing up there looking terrified—and suddenly, her insides turned cold.

Brown eyes met with grey. So taken aback by the force of Draco Malfoy's gaze—and that look of utter _death_ in his eyes—Ginny actually gasped aloud, bringing her hand over her mouth to cover her shock.

"Gin, what's wrong?" Ron leaned over Harry and looked at his younger sister in concern.

Difficult as it was, Ginny tore her eyes away from the Slytherin table and dragged them to her brother. "It was… nothing," she shook her head. "I just remembered that I still have an inch to write for my Potions essay—that's all."

She glanced at Harry and could tell he didn't quite believe her, but Ron had already turned back to the sorting and was whispering to Hermione about how hungry he was.

Studiously ignoring both Harry and the Slytherin table, Ginny opted to look at her shoes instead. _What, _she thought, _could prompt Malfoy to look so… inhuman? He's a right git, of course, but Merlin— those eyes were colder than I have ever seen them._ The sound of cheering made her pause and she glanced up to find that the sorting had ended.

"Thank Merlin," Ron moaned as piles of food magically appeared before them.

After she had eaten, Ginny felt much better and forgot _(those eyes, like looking into deadlights)_ about Draco Malfoy in favor of enjoying the company of friends that she had missed sorely over the summer holiday. It was only after the feast and everyone had made to leave for their respective common rooms that Ginny's mood once again darkened. Her, Harry and Ron all looked sympathetically at Hermione who was putting on a brave face—one that would typically be seen on a man walking toward the gallows—as she turned to say goodbye.

"We'll walk with you if you'd like," Ginny offered.

Ron vehemently agreed, but his string of curses was cut off by a very firm Head Girl.

"No, you were right earlier, Ginny—he's just a ferret and frankly I think he was more disgusted at our sleeping arrangements than I was. He'll most likely leave me be, and if he doesn't well—we'll just have to cross that path as it comes, okay?"

* * *

><p>True to Hermione's prediction, Draco wanted <em>nothing<em> to do with her. The mere thought of having to share a common room with the mudblood revolted him to the point of being sick, and he thought determinedly to himself that he would spend as much time away from the tower as possible.

He also thought, rather dejectedly, that he would be spending a lot of time alone this year. No matter how much he claimed that Blaise was as annoying as a Hufflepuff girl, he really idid/i enjoy the company of the dark-haired boy. Draco managed to ruin that effectively, though, on the way to the school. He had shut himself off to the world so completely that not even Blaise Zabini had been able to insert himself through the cracks.

_Shame_, Draco thought tiredly as he murmured the password to the Head Towers, _he was just beginning to grow on me._

The portrait swung open slowly and Draco glanced once around the hallway before entering his common room. It was blissfully empty, but he noted with a curl of his lips that the mudblood had beaten him to their quarters by the sight of her worn book bag hanging neatly from a hook on the wall.

Taking in his surroundings, Draco noticed that the common room was done up in a garish myriad of red and green and he grimaced, thinking sourly that this must be Dumbledore's idea of a joke. Unable to stand much more of the hideous Christmas-like decoration, Draco strode purposefully to the door marked with a gleaming plaque that read _Draco Malfoy: Head Boy _and opened it swiftly.

_Thank Merlin, _he thought gratefully, _no red or gold in here._

After an hour of double checking all of his homework, Draco finally collapsed into the large, four-poster bed and squeezed his eyes shut. He was furiously willing the unbidden images of _(oh god I was the last thing she saw before she died)_ the terrified witch to stop burning the inside of his brain. Knowing it would be no use, the pale Slytherin muttered _Nox _and the candles in his room snuffed themselves out.

The last thing he thought of before drifting into an uneasy sleep was the reaction of the girl-Weasley as she brought her eyes to his in the Great Hall. He knew what she had seen in his face.

* * *

><p>True to his word, exactly one month after Draco had left Malfoy Manor for Hogwarts, Lucius floo'd into the school to talk with his son. Draco was packing up his things from an uneventful Potions class when Professor Snape sourly asked the Slytherin to stay behind for a moment. Once the rest of the class filed out, Draco looked expectantly at his Professor with one eyebrow raised.<p>

"My office tonight. Nine sharp, is that understood?"

Glancing once into the knowing, black eyes of the Potions Master, Draco nodded his head succinctly and turned to leave.

"One more thing, Mr. Malfoy," Snape said smoothly.

"Yes?" Draco asked, turning around and hefting his bag onto his shoulder.

"Do please stop treating Mr. Zabini as though he is invisible—if I have to endure one more moment of him trying to get your attention, I'm sending the both of you to the Forbidden Forest to collect my ingredients." There was a scowl on Snape's face and without waiting for a word of response from his student, the Potions Master swept past Draco and out into the hall.

For Draco, the rest of the day was spent in silent contemplation. In the weeks that had passed, he hadn't been able to gleam any information on Potter, although it was not for lack of trying because the Slytherin _had_ tried. He went to great lengths and was forced to endure one particularly embarrassing moment when he was caught hiding behind a suit of armor by the King Weasel, who then proceeded to turn an unnatural shade of red which clashed horribly with his hair.

Frowning, the Head Boy hadn't the foggiest clue as to what he was going to relay to his father which made his heart speed up in trepidation. The only thing he really _could_ tell Lucius was that the Golden Boy was dating King Weasel's younger sister—what was her name? Ginny? It wasn't much, but hopefully his father would be placated by the sheer amount of homework that Draco had been assigned in preparation for N.E.W.T.s and, he thought smugly, the fact that he scored higher than Granger in their Transfiguration homework two weeks in a row.

Before Draco knew it, he was standing outside of Snape's office door trying to fight off his nerves. The first lesson that Lucius ever deigned to teach his son was to _never_, under any circumstances, betray any emotion when presenting yourself in front of a superior. Draco took this lesson to heart, knowing only too well what would happen if he were to betray anything to his father; with skin as fair as Draco's, bruises were easy to form and difficult to hide.

Forcing the last of his emotions away, Draco rearranged his face into a mask of coldness and calm and knocked on Snape's door. It opened almost immediately and Snape's sallow face looked down on the Head Boy in disdain. "Come in," he said curtly. "Your father will be flooing in shortly."

"Did you—I mean, does Dumbledore know?"

Snape nodded negatively. "We have our own brand of magic," was all he said.

And then, in a rush of emerald flame, Lucius Malfoy was standing before Draco and the Potions Master, his silver hair gleaming in the firelight. "Good evening, iSeverus/i," Lucius said smoothly. "You were missed at our last meeting," he gave a pointed look.

"Yes, well," Snape drew himself up and turned to leave. "That is between our Master and me, isn't it?"

Sneering, Lucius merely ignored the black-haired man and turned to his son. He waited until Snape had closed the office door behind him before saying, "do you have anything useful for me boy? You'll be sorry if this was a waste of my time."

Looking directly into his father's eyes, Draco began to speak. "It has been a busy month, father," the Slytherin said. "I've beat Granger twice in our Transfiguration marks."

Lucius's lips curled. "You think," he said cutting Draco off, "that this is what I came to hear? That you have _finally_ stepped into your shoes as a Malfoy? That perhaps you won't be such a disappointment after all? You should have been beating her in marks since your first year, Draco, and if you've nothing more pertinent to tell me then I am afraid you are going to have to learn your place."

Face impassive throughout his father's speech, Draco continued as if he hadn't heard a word that Lucius said. "Potter, Weasley and Granger have been meeting with Dumbledore all month; although I could never get quite close enough to hear what they whispered to each other when they left his office, I've gathered that he is keeping them updated on what's happening outside."

Lucius looked slightly intrigued by this fact and encouraged, Draco kept speaking. "I also heard Granger mention something about a—a book. And a locket. Do either of those mean anything to you?"

"No," Lucius said curtly and turned back to the fire place. "Next time," he told his son, "I expect better from you."

"Just a moment, father," Draco raised his arm as if to stop the older man. "There's one more thing and I don't know if this will be useful at all, but Potter's got a… girlfriend."

"Oh?" Lucius said, turning back around. "Who?"

Draco folded his arms casually and leaned against Professor Snape's personal desk. "The youngest Weasley. Ginny, I think her name is."

Lucius's face was thoughtful for a moment and then he murmured "interesting," so softly that Draco had to strain to hear. Without another word the tall, silver-haired Death Eater turned to the fireplace and disappeared.

* * *

><p>At first, Ginny had just stared dumbly. Then—as his words sunk into her consciousness—she felt like Harry had hit her with the Cruciatus curse, followed swiftly by <em>Avada Kedavra.<em> She couldn't move, couldn't breathe and certainly was too numb to notice the silent tears that were streaming down her shell-shocked face.

Two months. Ginny Weasley was walking on air for exactly two months, three days and five hours before her world, her happiness, and her heart came crashing down around her. She and Harry spent every moment they could steal away from school work to be with one another. It felt like a fairy tale and Ginny was the princess—_of course,_ she remedied, _I don't need any bloody saving, or some such rubbish_—and together they made for the perfect couple.

Until it was ruined by a stupid, bloody owl carrying the _Daily Prophet_ in its beak.

Hermione who, despite Harry and Ron's protests that she stop reading the rag of a newspaper, continued to receive her subscription in order to "keep up with things—there is a grain of truth to every lie, you know," she argued. And so, not really expecting anything to be amiss, the Head Girl had unrolled her copy and immediately let out a shriek, dropping her Pumpkin Juice as she did so.

"Hermione! What's wrong?" Harry jumped up from his seat, followed closely by Ron.

"It's… it's… oh it's _horrible_! Ron," she said softly. "Ginny."

Concerned, the younger girl tugged the paper gently out of Hermione's limp hands and said, "oh my god, mum… dad… this _can't_ be true, can it?" Tears were welling up in her eyes as she handed the iDaily Prophet/i to Ron.

On the front page was a large picture of The Burrow and the headline read, _Attack on Known Supporters of Harry Potter!_

Just then, Professor McGonagall rushed into the Great Hall and, seeing the stricken expressions on the faces of her students, headed over to them immediately.

"Professor," Harry began. His face was pale and he was rubbing his scar angrily.

"They're fine, everyone's fine," she said quickly. "Ron, Ginny—your parents and brothers were at the Headquarters and thank Merlin for that. They haven't sent any owls for fear of interception but Dumbledore is there now. You won't be allowed to see them just yet—too dangerous—but I _promise_ you, no one was hurt."

As she was talking, she led the four distraught Gryffindors out of the Great Hall and away from the student body and their questioning stares. Hermione wasn't the only one who had a subscription to the _Daily Prophet_ and by now, the news had spread through the entire school.

McGonagall didn't say another word until she reached her office and ushered her students inside. "Sit, all of you—please. There is something else that needs to be said before I let you go and—it might come as bit of a shock."

"What could be worse than this, Professor?" Ron asked sadly. He squeezed his sister's hand gently, and she rested her head on his shoulder.

"The thing is," McGonagall breathed deeply. "It seems that the aim of this attack wasn't exactly to kill—only one room was destroyed in its entirety. The rest of the house is untouched, as far as anyone can tell."

"What does that mean?" asked Hermione. "What room?"

Professor McGonagall closed her eyes, and then looked directly at Ginny. "I think this was meant to be a warning from He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named directed towards you, Ms. Weasley."

"Wha—what?" the redhead asked shakily. "My room? It's gone?"

* * *

><p>Two months. That's all it took before Harry Potter realized what a complete and utter fool he was. <em>How could I even believe,<em> he thought angrily to himself,_ that I could live a normal life? How could I bring her into danger like that? _What_ was I thinking?_

Harry and Ginny were both standing in the Gryffindor common room after their Head of House had finished talking to them. McGonagall excused the four of them from their classes if need be, but Ron and Hermione opted to attend in order to let Harry and Ginny have a moment alone.

"Harry…" Ginny put a tentative hand on her boyfriend's arm. "Harry look, I know that you're upset but… but it's just a room. Just a house. Mum and dad… Fred and George… they're safe. That's all that matters! And I was here… pretty stupid of them, don't you think? If they wanted me dead they've attacked the wrong part of the country!"

She could tell that he was trying to gain control over his anger, over his overwhelming guilt. It was a battle that Harry could never win—and Ginny saw for the first time how frightening he could be when he was angry. His green eyes found hers and the look in them was so similar to that of Draco Malfoy's that Ginny took a step back in horror.

"Don't you under_stand_ Ginny? It was for _me._ That message, it was for me. Voldemort is telling me that as long as I keep up my fight against him—I will _never_ be free, and neither will the people I love! I can't stand it if I see you get hurt-_killed_-by that monster! I won't stand for it! Ginny… we can't be together. I'm sorry."

The boy standing in front of her was no longer Harry Potter, but the Boy-Who-Lived, the boy who carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, and as he walked slowly away from Ginny, from the girl that he almost loved, Harry found the strength to keep on fighting, even if it was just for one more day.


End file.
